


Kiss and Tell

by Savageandwise



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst, M/M, McLennon, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of drugs, Metaphors, References to unfaithfulness, Trippy description, Tumblr Prompt, Vague incestuous reference, Work of fiction, not my take on reality, possible period typical homophobia, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 08:39:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12931626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: He'd kissed Paul twice now.Or Paul had kissed him.Once in jest.Once in anger.We're  not leaving until you tell me what this is.





	Kiss and Tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twinka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinka/gifts).



> This story was written for Twinka, the lovely person who betas my work.  
> She wanted a story where John tells Paul about the Julia incident and somehow uses it to explain how he feels about Paul. This is what I came up with.
> 
> Thank you for the lovely prompt it was fun trying to figure out how to frame it.
> 
> I picked this slightly abstract form because I felt it would fit the subject matter. 
> 
> The passage about John kissing Paul while on stage as a 'joke' was written with Emma and Tani in mind who often talk about how that might have been part of a camp act.
> 
> Thanks to celebratorypenguin and bakerstreetafternoon for reading and encouraging.

**Kiss:**

(Kissing Paul was like dying a slow death.  
Pain spreading through him like a cancer, a numbing of the limbs, a tingling in his fingertips. That sickening flip flop of his stomach like the last palpitations of a fish on dry land. It hurt just enough to sharpen his perception to the point where everything was clearer, brighter, cleaner. Everything else was lacking in comparison.

He'd kissed Paul twice now. Or Paul had kissed him.

Once in jest:

On the stage in Hamburg. Hamburg. The other side of the looking glass. The gothic griminess of the place. The way everything glittered with sequins and beads shed from stripper's costumes. The foreignness of everything. Beyond the glass pane they sang for nazis and girls who were really boys fed them pills that kept them awake for days. 

Nothing counted because nothing was real. Not the girls or the drugs. Not planting one on your mate while a bunch of sailors looked on. Paul froze for a moment and then to John's surprise he relaxed into it.)

_Mmm._

_Yeah?_

__

_Mmm. Mmm._

(Then the sting as Paul's palm connected with his cheek.)

_You cad! You scoundrel! Take advantage of me in my weakened state!_

(The thunder of applause. Paul's camp posturing. Later, after the set, he felt Paul's eyes on him, that dark cast to them: I know precisely what that was. And you do too.

Once in anger: 

That firecracker explosion, shouting, hands grabbing, bruising.)

_Oh, fuck you. Fuck you. You think you know everything. Fuck you._

(The hot flood of tears streaming down his cheeks.)

_You're not bloody crying? John?_

_Fuck you._

(He gripped him hard, fingers digging into his arms.)

__

_Stop it. Stop._

(There was a sharp spasm of indecision and then relief. Oh the relief! His mouth on Paul's. Paul's tongue on his. The frantic drumming in his chest like some base animal trapped in a small heart shaped box.

He pulled away to stop the pain but it never really went away.)

**Tell:**

****

_We're not leaving until you tell me what this is._

(It was dark in their corner of the pub. Everyone was drunk or wrapped around each other like white on rice and John was staring into his pint of beer wishing he was anywhere but here. The silence was tangible, the sandpaper texture of it rubbed John's skin raw.)

_We can't do it again. Not…_

_I know._

_Not… We really can't because... I need to know…_

_I know. I understand._

(John didn't understand, not really. Why was this his fault? Hadn't Paul kissed him as well? Why didn't Paul tell him what it was?)

_I need you to tell me._

(John hesitated. There were no words to accurately describe the thing. There was no in-between with John. He was all in. Or he was out. That somersault of emotions. The world on its head whenever Paul was near. No. The world was always topsy turvy: yes was no, no was yes, stop was go. Stop. Stop. Stop. Unless Paul was there. Paul made everything breathtakingly, brutally real.)

_Is it... does this mean… are you... What about Cyn?_

_What about Cyn? What the fuck does Cyn have to do with anything?_

(Cyn was another thing entirely. Paul usually understood that. He kept his life in tiny nesting boxes inside each other but separate. Family.  
Music.  
Girls.  
John.

What did Paul want? Who was Paul really? 

John wasn't entirely sure, all he knew was…)

_… you want to know if I'm queer._

(Paul shrugged, looked down at the worn table. He rubbed at a scratch in the cheap varnish as if he could polish it smooth with his fingertip.)

_Are you?_

_Are **you**? Paul?_

(Paul shrugged again. There was something in his face, an awkwardness, a vulnerability he hadn't let John see in years. Things had changed, John realised with a jolt. Once upon a time he had called all the shots. That time had passed. Now Paul ruled with a firm hand. He did it his own way. A suggestion rather than a command. But he did it all the same. ) 

_Because it wouldn't matter, John. Um… it wouldn't matter to me…_

(He didn't think he was. Or at least… it wasn't all men. It wasn't all women either. John formed attachments the went well beyond the physical. He was immaterial. Smoke. Mist. Static before a storm. He needed someone to inject life into him.)

_One time… one time… when Julia was still alive…_

_It's okay._

_She used to make me tea sometimes, you know… when I'd had enough of Mimi. And we'd jaw for fucking hours and listen to music. We'd spread out on her bed and just sort of… talk about anything and everything. Just laugh for hours. And I felt… whole, you know?_

(Paul knew. Or course he knew. He'd lost his mother too.) 

_She had her head on me shoulder. I didn't even really think of her as me mum half the time._

_Who was she, then?_

_Just Julia._

_Yeah._

_I touched her. No! I mean not like that. I… my hand just… I touched her tit._

_Alright._

____

_It wasn't… I wanted… I'd thought about it before. I knew it was wrong… but… well nothing happened, did it? Nothing happened, Paul._

____

_It's alright._

____

(Was it? John felt the searing shame still. The certainty that he belonged in an asylum. He was an incomplete puzzle pieced together by force. There were parts of him missing. How could Paul just shrug it off? How could he still look at him?)

____

_But what does this…? How is this… ? What’s it to do with me, John? With us?_

____

_You. You… it's just like… I knew it was wrong… but… but I still… I got it all mixed up. All muddled…_

____

(It was that same desperate craving. A raging thirst that left his insides cracked and splintering. Every sip was fire. Every sip was poison. Except it was worse because something _had_ happened. And no amount of shame could stop him wanting more.)

____

_It's like I can't stop thinking about it. About… you…_

____

(A wave of red washed over Paul's face. He was prone to fidgeting, to hammering out rhythms or picking at imperfections with his fingernails but now he went completely still.)

____

_Why did you tell me that story about Julia?_

____

_Because…_

____

_That's not what I asked you about…_

____

_Because… I wanted her… I wanted her… she was everything._

____

(Paul's hand shot out towards John's clenched fists. He dropped it abruptly. Paul's fingertips were only a breath away but John didn't reach for him. He could feel the sickening pull between them. Magnets caught in an unavoidable dance.)

____

_I know it's wrong._

__

_I don't think it's wrong, you know. You and me._

__

_No?_

__

_No. It's not wrong at all, John._

__


End file.
